tradition

Once upon a time a mother passed along her holiday cooking traditions to her daughter, and she to her daughter, and so on, and so on ...

I'm sure it still works that way in many, if not most families. Not in mine. Yesterday, Ian learned the fine art of matzoh-ball making from his father. Here they are, in our itty-bitty-city kitchen; Charles is tutoring Ian in the fine art of creating a just-right ball (not too hard, not too fluffy).

When I was Ian's age, I asked my mother to teach me how to make matzoh balls.

"You follow the recipe on the box," she told me. "Just put in enough matzoh meal so they feel right."

"But how will I know when they feel right?" I asked her.

Her answer? "You'll just know."

I have to say, not only did Ian's and Charles' feel right, they tasted pretty right, too. And so, while I may not have been the one to pass on this tradition, at least it's being passed along. 

On the other hand, I lead the seder when it's at my house. So I do pass along traditions, even if they're not of the cooking kind.

just a hat

It's just a hat. A $3.00 hat from the 99 Cent store. And yet, it's become the most coveted object in my home.

In theory, it's Ian's hat. When he wears it, he's Mr. Cool Dude, or "MisterI," as he's named himself (said out loud, it's "Mystery"). 

Clearly, my kid knows how to rock a hat. But everything is fluid in this household, including clothes and accessories. I've been known to borrow Charles' longjohns for winter hiking; Charles takes my scarves and backpacks; Ian steals my moccasins, and Seth ... well, Seth wants whatever belongs to his brother.

When Seth puts on the hat, he's a cowboy. He gallops around the house, yelling "Yee-haw!" (as any good cowboy does), and "Look, Mommy! I'm a cowboy! See my cowboy hat?"

When I ask him "Isn't that Ian's hat?" he replies, "No, Mommy. It's a cowboy hat. I'm a cowboy. It's my hat." (I like the logic there.)

So ... just a hat? No way. In this house, it's a gateway to a world of cowboys and cool dudes. We really should fork over the three bucks and buy a second one, don'tcha think?

our house is a very, very, very knit house

Here is the most amazing video: it's been making the rounds of Ravelry and YouTube. In this commercial for natural gas, some Belgian advertising agency has created the house of every knitters' dreams... My younger son is in love with the video; I've got it saved on my desktop, and when he wants to watch it he asks to see the "yarn shower."

If you're wondering how the hell they did that, there's also a short video on YouTube that chronicles "The Making of Natural Gas." (And isn't that a great title?)

It seems that to make this video, all the knitting was done in advance, then UNRAVELED! in front of the cameras. The unraveling was filmed in stop-action shot by shot to get the amazing visual of the house being covered in knitting first thing in the morning.

While part of me cringes at the idea of so much knitting being destroyed for a 30-second spot, another part of me is tickled by the idea that some knitters actually got paid by an ad agency for their "humble little handicrafts."

whose scarf is it anyway?

I've posted my first pattern ... woo-hoo! It's called the Simplest Seed Stitch Scarf Ever, because it's ... well ... just about the simplest seed stitch scarf ever. It's truly a beginner level scarf, and a beginner level pattern. If you're just learning how to knit, this is the scarf for you.

I designed and knit this scarf for DH last winter, after he managed to lose three different store-bought scarves. I thought if he had a handmade scarf, he'd be more careful with it.

What I didn't count on was my older son's acquisitive nature, and his wile. As we got ready for school one wintry day last year, I noticed him wrapping the scarf around his neck.

"Isn't that Dad's?" I asked him.

"Well, he just left it laying around, so I took it," Ian replied.

"Where was it 'just laying around'?" I asked.

"On top of Dad's jacket," was the answer.

It seems Charles had switched to a warmer jacket and a balaclava that morning, so Ian figured the scarf was up for grabs. But Charles didn't seem to mind, and Ian wore the scarf all winter, so everybody won. Plus, having borrowed it myself, I can be totally honest when I say in my pattern that it looks good on men, women, and children!

g is for gift

My birthday was last week. My husband gave me a beautiful card and what he called a "token" gift: a bottle of very nice zinfandel. He definitely gets points for knowing my favorite wine, as well as for trying to buy the label I prefer, even if it wasn't to be found in our neighborhood.

But to be honest, I feel like a bottle of wine is the kind of gift you give to a date you're hoping to get lucky with; not the kind of present you offer to your wife of nearly 17 years. Not to say that the wine wasn't lovely. It's just not a gift that says, "I love you honey, and I really appreciate you bearing my two children, not to mention all these years you've spent picking up my dirty underwear from the bedroom floor."

No, to say all that, you've got to give something a little more meaningful. A little more permanent.

So I took matters into my own hands.

Just about this time last year, Charles and I lost our camera. Not surprisingly, we don't agree on how that happened. We had gone to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens with friends, then Charles dropped me and my girlfriends off at a restaurant and took the kids home. I could have sworn I left the camera in the trunk of the car; he's positive I took it into the restaurant with me. (It's a real possibility that we left it sitting on top of the trunk.) Either way, we never saw it again, and we've spent the past year sans camera. I've been taking most of my pictures on my cell phone, which may be convenient, but it's hardly high quality.

So I told Charles that he would be buying me a new camera as a birthday gift, and then I went and picked it up for myself. I'm very pleased with my new Nikon CoolPix. I've never had a point-and-shoot before, being kind of a DSLR snob. But this little camera is sweet. It cost nearly nothing, since it's a (gasp!) 2009 model. It's tiny and weightless, and slips right into the front pocket of my bag. And it's a cool race car red. Oh, yeah, it takes pretty good pictures too.

Now I feel like I got a meaningful gift. The gift of recording the significant and trivial events in my family's lives. The gift of logging my crafting successes and failures. The gift of sharing these moments with my friends and family. And the gift of feeling empowered. All this in a 3-ounce piece of fiberglass and electronics. Not too shabby.

f is for ...

First group of swatches. Fourth attempt. Finished. Finally.

It took 4 tries, but I'm finally satisfied with the first four swatches I did for the Master Hand Knitter course. I switched yarn three times, changed needle size twice, and tried two different blocking methods. But I finally have something I'm comfortable sending in to the experts for their critique, and now I can move on to the next group of swatches.

Will I be touching these four samples again before I send my package out? As they say here in Brooklyn, fuhgeddaboutit.

e is for error

I love knitting and I love making jewelry, so I've been planning on knitting bangle bracelets ever since I saw some in Vogue Knitting's 2008 Holiday issue. The only thing is, I've been too cheap, or too lazy, to order bracelet blanks to wrap the knitting around.

Well, lo and behold, Susan Hajjar has a simple bangle bracelet pattern on Ravelry that uses plastic bottles as the bracelet form! (She's also posted a tutorial on her blog, unikatissima's compilation of tutorials.) Brilliant.

Finally, I have a way to create my bracelet blank on the cheap, a method that also allows me to feel good and green. Putting my knowledge of jewelry-making to work, I sized the plastic ring to slip over my knuckles, knit up my strip, sewed it onto the form, slipped it over my wrist, and ...

Whoa! Way too big. (Unless I didn't mind how it slipped off my wrist every time I lowered my hand.)

So what's a knitter to do? My husband suggested I unravel the knitting, cut down the plastic form and start again. That's definitely a logical suggestion; a viable way to go. I opted for this instead:

A crown for Seth's backup bunny. After all, White Bunny Rabbit is prince of the stuffed animals. (Black Bunny Rabbit is King. But he already has his own lovely paper bag hat that Charles fabricated at dinner the other night.)

When it comes to my knitting, I don't like to think of things like this as errors. I'd rather view them as tiny little lemons, waiting to be made into lemonade.